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What's a Wreck?

A Cake Wreck is any cake that is unintentionally sad, silly, creepy, inappropriate - you name it. A Wreck is not necessarily a poorly-made cake; it's simply one I find funny, for any of a number of reasons. Anyone who has ever smeared frosting on a baked good has made a Wreck at one time or another, so I'm not here to vilify decorators: Cake Wrecks is just about finding the funny in unexpected, sugar-filled places.

No, wait, I'm sorry, I meant the time for spinal cords in shallow graves:

And speaking of graves...

I bet this wreckerator is a real casket case.

Sometimes after a long hard day, you just want a cake that's had the ever-loving crap beaten out of it, know what I mean?

Booyah. Wish = granted.

Question: Does this look like a pair of lips painted like a basketball, or will 28 of you be too distracted wondering what "WILL 28" means to notice?

INQUIRING MINDS WANT TO KNOW.

I call this next one "The Thing That Looks Like A Triangular Hamburger Bun."

It's a literal work.

And this, "The Plague O'er The Land."

Step 1: Bring to a boil

Step 2: Serve cold to enemies and/or the neighbor's kids

"The Invisible Ball"

See what I did there?

"My Ugly Crazy Lumps"

Because nothing expresses your ardent fandom quite like a hearty, "GO TEAM." (Hey bakers, if I spring for the sheet cake do you think I could get, "THE PLAYERS CURRENTLY PLAYING ARE MY FAVORITES IN ALL OF [INSERT SPORT HERE]"?)

(PS. Behold the awesomeness that is my punctuation ending that last sentence. BEHOLD IT.)

Either #7 is constructed of cancerous pig skin, or what we have here are pork flavoured cupcakes. Either way, nothing can explain the hog calling reference, except, perhaps only using this concoction for pig swill.

Going through my grandmother's recipe collection I came across something called "dump cake". It was actually a recipe that involved dumping a few ingredients together, thus the title. Most of the cakes in this post, however, seem much more worthy of the name.

If I tilt my head to the left, I see a smiling, big schnoz-ed guy focused on the activities to his left, perhaps wearing a tricorne. Or maybe himself horned. I think the emotion conveyed is indifference, hysteria, and contentment, which necessitated the complex emoticon.

It's clearly NOT "Will 28." The hyphen indicates that the phrase reads Will 2-8, or in text speak, "Will To Eat." This was baked for a despondent Vikings fan who lost all interest in food after that crushing loss to the Packers. A friend ordered some cheese and smoked fish cupcakes with some encouraging words to help cheer him up. Life can get pretty bleak up in the frozen north--lets have some compassion, people.

However, as much as I love cake and frosting, and as much as I love football, not one of these wrecks would touch my lips.

Since the BCS championship will be played tonight, this is a very appropriate post.And since it's published well before kickoff, we can only hope that football fans will be warned to stay away from these......things. I suggest staying close to the bar.

Are you sure that Cake #4 is not a squashed bowling ball (which may or may not be related to the Super Bowel)?I think in theory a CCC could be okay if about 90% of the frosting were removed. For those people whose idea of cake nirvana is frosting, they can just eat it straight out of a bowl.

Maybe stores (like "The Store That Must Not Be Named") should have a required browsing of CW (and the comments!) as part of bakery department training? But then we wouldn't have all these amazing messes to make fun of. Hmm... nevermind.

The Good News: It took me all weekend (hours upon hours involving ear scratching, feathers, laser pointers, letting Theardare call me Clarice while we ate liver and fava beans and many other things I am currently trying to suppress), but I have convinced Theardare to allow me to replace the current bunker door (to which Theardare somehow has the only key) with a new one. We will, ALL of us, be welcome in the bunker again. Whenever there is a threat of Epcot, we can lounge in the bunker, partaking of post-appropriate snacks until the all-clear has been sounded.

The Bad News: The only way Theardare would approve of this was for me to agree to get a door that will only open when a password is spoken. Theardare made me promise, under threat of Room 101, to allow HIM to create the password. Thus, he has devised a riddle, the solution to which is the password:

"Who is it that ought to be worshipped, as the wise Ancient Egyptians knew? Who is it that rules mightily the Epcot Bunker and the sacred rooms below?Who is it that will fill you full of lead if you disagree with the human I have chosen to write this blog?Speak my name and you may enter!"

When I mentioned that the riddle is pretty lame and doesn't even rhyme, Theardare said, "It doesn't translate well from Cat into your inferior language".

So, the bunker is now open. I, however, have quite had my fill of it for now and will be off in the corner rocking back and forth and possibly sucking my thumb....

First, I'd like to propose that Jen's punctuation be replicated on a plaque to be placed prominently in DOC's new Hall of Fame, located in the atrium of the bunker.

Why does the bunker have an atrium? There had to be someplace to put the approximately 39,000 portraits, sketches, figurines, statues (and of course, plushies) of Theardare that have suddenly appeared. Besides, you always put a Hall of Fame in an atrium. Where else would it go?

All the cat memorabilia and the torches give the atrium a decidedly ancient Egyptian vibe, but I have the oddest disinclination to object...

But I digress.

As ubiquitous as football coverage is during the 13 months of the season, one would think there would not be anyone living above ground anywhere who would lack knowledge of the precise specifications of the 'pigskin'. But one would evidently be quite wrong.

Today's post is such a target-rich environment that I'll simply hope that everyone enjoys 'gaper-owl 45' as I try to recover my will to eat.

I will, however, be pondering how what I fervently hope is a collection of chocolate-frosted cupcakes can be put *on special* for $17.99. What was the original price, and why would anyone think $17.99 is a deal?

And so, as the Poo-year Blimp sails majestically through oddly symmetrical clouds, I close with this question: Who in their right mind would put parsley on a cake?!

I don't know what it is lately-the holidays are over or you are still drinking spiked eggnog but you have been on your A+ game lately on both blogs-keep up the good work and I will keep falling out of my chair laughing!

Ok, I have to say...the "Plague o'er the Land" is great and all, but did anyone even notice the literary genius that is scrawled onto the cake board beside it?? "Woo! PIG!! SOOIE!"

Yup. Genius, right there. (I am seriously so confused right now. I know footballs are called "pig skins", but by calling it a pig skin...you've got to assume the pig is deceased, and thus unable to further respond to your calls. Right??!)